As Summer Sweetly Fades
by William Easley
Summary: The last week of August, 2016, brings the twins' seventeenth birthday . . . and bittersweet partings as they prepare to return to Piedmont for their senior year in high school. Mabel will miss Teek, Dipper will miss Wendy, and both will miss the mystery and wonder of Gravity Falls. Just short snapshots of how the summer wraps up.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own the show GRAVITY FALLS or any of the characters; both are the property of the Walt Disney Company and of Alex Hirsch. I make no money from these stories but write just for fun and in the hope that other fans enjoy reading them. I will ask, please, do not copy my stories elsewhere on the Internet. I work hard on these, and they mean a lot to me. Thank you.

* * *

**As Summer Sweetly Fades**

* * *

**(August 2016)**

_Somehow we never quite do all the things we would love to do. Problems and challenges crowd in, distractions pop up, and the days, however long they are in summer, still are too short to hold all our hopes and wishes. The last days of August 2016 find Dipper and Mabel looking ahead to being seventeen and seniors. Changes are coming, but how does one prepare for changes unknown and unguessable?_

* * *

**1**

Ariel was a fast learner, no doubt about that. In fact, Stanford Pines would call her an _instantaneous_ learner. She could visually scan a long complex document on the computer monitor and then recall it letter-perfect and word for word.

She explained, though, that she had help. "I am an instrument," she said.

And her flute was an instrument—and a sentient construct. It had deep ties to her consciousness, and the flute, the commander, as Ariel called it, actually held all the memories. It collected information on humans, how noble and good they could be and how low and evil. Ford hoped the two sides at least balanced out.

However, if she was a learner, Ariel was also a teacher. Ford talked with her for hours every day, not interrogating her, but letting her explain. Very few humans on her world, Woldercan (she wrote it out for him, hesitating on the spelling), could read or write. Fewer than a hundred.

She had some trouble at first deciphering type fonts, because the machines on Woldercan had imparted the skills of reading and writing based on information sent back to that world in the 1500s, when a professional scribe in London had adopted a lively pet raven that was not, in fact, a raven at all, but a robotic probe from Woldercan in disguise.

The scribe, a lonely, kind, absent-minded, ascetic man, welcomed it and it perched on the back of his chair as he bent over his paper, pens, and inks and worked away, fair-copying everything from religious tracts and school-book manuscripts to plays for the common stage. Though he wrote a fine secretary hand—the kind of handwriting Shakespeare would have learned at school—he also loved and practiced calligraphy and had devised his own script, graceful and most delicate.

This script was what the raven learned. The scribe copied out reams of material in his special script, just for himself, not for the hungry press, pronouncing the words as he finished them (an old habit of his). The raven watched, recorded, and sent on the information. The machines of Woldercan received it some sixty-seven years later and filed it away as human writing.

The scribe lived to be sixty-eight years old, and for forty-one of them he kept his pet raven. It gave every appearance of being affectionate, and he needed affection in his lonely life. It never even occurred to him to wonder why the raven ate so little (at night it secretly distributed the food he gave it but that it could not swallow to mice) and why it never pooped. It was enough for him that it would murmur softly, nuzzle his cheek, and always listen quietly, nodding to him, when he wished to talk to someone.

When he died, the raven visited his tomb as the priest and the sexton interred him—there were no other mourners—and then flew away. It was still about in 2016, its mission the same as ever: Record information and send it back. At present it made its home in an old house in Quebec. Long story, of interest primarily to ravens.

At any rate, the machines saw no value in teaching many humans to read and write, for there was nothing for them to read and no reason for them to write—but to preserve the skill, they did teach a few. Ariel, whose rapport with the machines was more advanced than any other human's on the planet, had been chosen as one of the few.

Ford wondered why the machines had not simply cloned the humans. Ariel frowned slightly as he explained the concept, and she came to understand what cloning meant. "That is against programming," she said. In turn, as much as she could, she explained that in the dim remote past, the natives who—presumably—had created the machines had ingrained in the fundamental code a law against the machines' meddling with human biology.

Which raised another concern. Ford had her learn about Earthly pathogens. On Woldercan, the machines had eliminated all microscopic organisms that could cause disease in humans. Not so on Earth.

However, as it emerged, Ariel was probably immune to all disease organisms. Or, more precisely, she carried in her blood microscopic machines—nano-machines—that sought out and destroyed any germ before it could affect her. Technically, these did not alter her biology—and there was no rule that a machine couldn't destroy a cold virus or a plague bacterium.

Still, Ford made sure that she read volumes on medicine, biology, genetics, and more. And oddly enough, at Mabel's urging, he also gave Ariel books on art, aesthetics, ethics, religion, and philosophy. These puzzled her in a way that the science tomes did not. "No one agrees?" she asked Ford. "Some say to believe one thing is true, others to believe the opposite is true? How can this be?"

Ford smiled in a weary way. "Young lady, if only we humans could understand the difference between certainty and surmise, wishful thinking and faith, we'd be better off. Look here: One of my professors, an extremely eccentric man who was a geneticist, once told us in a lecture, 'Never forget the spiritual side of your learning.' When some students laughed, thinking it was a joke, the professor said, 'No, seriously: What are the tenets you should hold to as if they were a sacred trust? Mine are simple: Never knowingly harm another person. Protect yourself if you must, but do that without hatred, and once the threat is overcome, stop there. At some point in your life, you will desperately need a second chance. Earn it by giving others their second chances. You may one day need forgiveness, so forgive others. Live so the world will be better by your being in it. Promote growth, not destruction. And if you have not done so yet, then as soon as possible, grow yourself a conscience.'"

And then Ford had to explain what a conscience was. It was very baffling in a way—but in another way, Stanford began to feel that Ariel was educating him as he educated her.


	2. Chapter 2

**As Summer Sweetly Fades**

* * *

**(August 2016)**

**3**

Dipper dreamed of Wendy pressing tight against him and giving him kiss after kiss, and woke up to find Tripper lying on his chest and licking his face. "Mmpph!" he said, moving the dog over. "Yech!"

Tripper hopped off the bed and stood with his nose against the door. "Oh, you need to go out," Dipper said, getting up. He glanced at the clock—six a.m. He let Tripper out to do his business and while the dog was occupied, he poured some dry food in his feeding dish. He set it on the porch and Tripper heard and came running, tucking into his breakfast with an obvious appetite.

Dipper went upstairs and tapped softly on the door. Wendy opened it, just peeking out—Dipper suspected she hadn't put her pants back on. "Run?" Dipper asked softly.

She smiled. "Five minutes," she whispered.

"Bring me some socks and my running shoes, in the closet," he told her.

He rummaged in the clothes hamper and found his running shorts. The tee shirt that he had taken off the night before when donning his pajamas would do for a run.

Wendy came downstairs. "Thanks for letting me borrow your bed," she said after a good-morning kiss.

"You were exhausted. Me, too. I slept hard," he told her. "The nature trail?"

"Sounds great."

They stretched their muscles out on the side lawn, with Tripper supervising. Dipper said, "Want to come with us, boy? Up for a run?"

Tripper wagged his tail and they set out, the dog loping along beside them, occasionally falling behind as he hit some beguiling scent of rabbit or squirrel and paused to savor it. He always caught up quickly, though.

"I'm so gonna miss these mornings," Wendy said.

"Me, too. Hey, you know this is my last year of track," Dipper said.

"Not necessarily. Western has a track team."

College track? Dipper thought about it for a minute. "If I'm good enough."

Wendy said, "Dude, you always underestimate yourself!"

The early sun was warm, the long grass of the meadows sparkled with diamonds of dew, the sky was mostly clear with just a few scattered puffy white clouds, it was perfect.

They ran as far as Moon Trap Pond—as usual, Tripper refused to approach it and cut across to the standing stone to lie in the grass and wait for them to go around the pond—and then the three of them turned back toward the Shack. Dipper remembered how, back when Wendy was determined to get him into shape, such a run left him achy and worn out. Now it refreshed him. Days when he put off his run, he felt miserable. "Thanks for helping me find out I like running," he said to Wendy.

"My pleasure, man. I'm proud of you. You'll probably be team captain and all."

"Don't know about that," he said. "Coach won't announce it until our first meeting. Oh, hey, I did earn a Varsity letter last year, though!"

"Cool! I'm dating a letterman!"

But Wendy had already graduated, so that felt sort of strange to Dipper. "Well—"

They slowed to a walk once they'd passed the bonfire clearing and walked the rest of the way to the Shack, Tripper running on ahead—probably hoping to look famished and promote a second breakfast, if Mabel were awake. She was, and he did. In fact, everyone in the Shack was stirring, except Soos's and Melody's two kids, so Dipper and Wendy took their showers and changed into working clothes and then joined the others for breakfast.

As she penned the MANAGER name tag on her blazer, Wendy said, "After work today, I'll have to go home and do laundry. Dad and my brothers probably left a huge pile, and I'll need to wash both sets of my work clothes. Want to come with me, and we'll make dinner there? Then a movie?"

"Sounds great!" Dipper said.

"Yeah, and we'll plan out what we want to do tomorrow and Monday," Wendy said. "We don't have a lot of time left in the summer, and I want us to have some monster-free fun."

Dipper's heart thumped a little harder. "All right," he said. "We'll plan it out."

"That's my Dipper!"

Once again, the tourist invasion hit hard. Stan doubled up the tram tours again, and once Teek showed up and opened the snack bar, Mabel had to go help him cook and serve, and Melody took over the second cash register for her. Abuelita took Little Soos and Harmony outside on the lawn, where they played.

Tourists took photos of the totem pole, the Shack, even the food. Dipper rang up sale after sale. He was happy for Soos—Stan had made the Shack profitable for thirty years, but Soos was overseeing a huge growth in business, and profits soared. However, though Dipper was earning money—he and Mabel got sixty dollars a week—he had to admit that the hours were long and the work was not that easy. But he and Mabel didn't really need the money, Soos paid Teek a better wage, and it all evened out in the end.

The day dragged on until six o'clock. Mabel, who'd come back to the other register, totaled out, as did Dipper, and they weren't surprised to see they'd beaten Wednesday's record by nearly five hundred dollars, counting gift-shop and snack-bar receipts along with admission and tour fees. Teek had hung around, and he and Mabel were planning to go to dine out and then see a movie.

Dipper and Wendy changed their clothes, she collected her work clothes in a laundry bag, and they set off for Casa Catastrophe in Wendy's Dart. To Wendy's surprise, the dirty laundry left by the guys didn't amount to much—one small load of whites, one of coloreds—and she was able to toss her own stuff in with theirs.

"Now," she said, "what do we want to have for dinner? Let's take a look in the fridge and pantry and make a decision."

They had some boneless chicken breasts, and Wendy immediately suggested, "Garlic chicken, man! Few herbs, touch of cayenne and some brown sugar and bread crumbs, you'll love it."

She sent Dipper to the back porch, where some herbs grew in pots, for a sprig of rosemary and a small bunch of oregano—thanks to her educating him with their touch telepathy, he knew what they looked like—and then put him to work cooking some wild rice and finding a box of frozen mixed vegetables as a side. "Rice has to cook for forty-five minutes, chicken bakes for thirty-five, so get a move on, man."

Soon the kitchen was fragrant with the garlic as the chicken baked. Before the hour was up, they had their plates on the table. Wendy prepared drinks she called mocktails—non-alcoholic drinks—with cucumbers, thyme, and sparkling water. "Cucumber fizz," she said, grinning. "See what you think."

The taste was a little peculiar but not unpleasant. And the chicken, accompanied by the nutty-flavored wild rice and the mixed veggies, was tender and tasty. Full and happy, the two washed up the dishes and then settled on the bearskin rug in the living room for movie night—the Good Enough for TV movie was another Chadley and Trixandra horror epic, _The Terrifying Dummy that Spoke For Itself. _It was a story of Chadley's entering a high-school talent contest (though he looked ten years too old to be a high-school student) with a ventriloquist's act using a—dum-da-da-DOMM!—cursed dummy that tried to take over his mind, though as Wendy said, he didn't have enough of a mind to make the effort worthwhile.

Dipper and Wendy cuddled in the gray light of the old black-and-white movie, laughed at the horrible dialogue, though they got a little sad. They were going to miss these evenings. Side by side, holding hands, each felt how the other hated the fact that summer was rapidly coming to an end.


	3. Chapter 3

**As Summer Sweetly Fades**

* * *

**(August 26-27, 2016)**

**5**

"Hey," Dipper whispered. "It's nearly midnight."

"Is it?" murmured Wendy, snuggled close to him. "Mm, I think I'm so sleepy that I better not drive. Guess you're stuck here overnight."

"That's not a good idea," Dipper said, caressing her cheek. "Way too tempting!"

"I didn't say we'd have to both sleep in my bed," Wendy pointed out.

"Oh. Well—"

Wendy giggled. "We could both squeeze into a sleeping bag. I bet that'd be a lot of fun!"

"Please stop teasing," groaned Dipper. "I get enough of that from Mabel."

She ruffled his hair. "Sorry, Dip. I just don't want to say goodbye tonight."

"I guess I could walk," Dipper told her.

"Mm-hmm. Six miles through the woods, or about eight by the road." She kissed him. "Come on. We could both fit in my bed, and we could both keep our clothes on. Just, you know . . . like this. Cuddle together. Keep each other warm."

"You knew you could talk me into it," Dipper said. "Guess Bill was wrong. I don't have a will of titanium." Then he blinked. "Now, how did I even know that? I have a faint memory of Bill saying something like that to his henchmaniacs—but I don't think any of us were around to hear it!"

"That tiny fragment of Bill?" Wendy asked.

"Huh. You know, I forget it's there sometimes. I guess you're right. I don't really share any of his memories, but now and then—"

"You call me 'Red.'"

"Yep, that's Bill," Dipper admitted. "Are you sure you want to sleep next to someone whose a little bit Bill Cipher?"

"Long as he's mostly Dipper Pines." She got up from the bearskin rug, turned off the TV—it was now showing "Insomniac's Theater," another movie program, which tended to show films like _The Big Sleep, I Can't Sleep, The Other Side of Sleep, Before I Sleep . . . _Dipper didn't know if that was smart programming or simply a dumb idea. The movie that had been on was a black-and-white horror film, _The Black Sleep, _with Boris Karloff at his creepy best, a way better movie than anything Good Enough for Television Studio ever cranked out.

In the bedroom, Wendy had a couple of surprises for Dipper.

Not that, you perv, get your mind out of the gutter.

"Here you go!" she said, cheerfully tossing him his pajamas.

"How'd you get these?" Dipper asked.

"When I got my clothes to bring home and wash, I picked these up, too."

"You planned this!" Dipper accused, but he was grinning.

She kissed his nose. "And I kept it a secret, even though you can read my mind. Oh, and here. You're definitely gonna need this!"

She handed him a wrapped toothbrush.

"Thanks," he said. "But you didn't have to buy—"

"Nah, the dentist gives me one every time I get my teeth cleaned," Wendy said. "But I use an electric toothbrush, so I got like a drawer full of them. I picked this one out 'cause the blue matches your trucker's hat."

In the bathroom he found laid out for him a fresh roll of dental floss (mint flavored), a tube of an unfamiliar toothpaste, Marvis Strong Mint, and a travel-sized bottle of Pep-A-Mint mouthwash. He and Wendy brushed their teeth side by side, her electric toothbrush humming and his hand-held one swishing the sharp, sweet taste of mint around in his mouth.

"There," she said as they finished. "We shouldn't eat candy before going to bed, but everything's both good for our teeth and minty. And I love me some peppermint! Let's try it out."

They kissed deeply standing there, and again as they got beneath the sheets, and then again lying next to each other. One thing led to another, and if they hadn't short-circuited everything with one of their mental make-outs, no telling what might have happened to their plans for college. However, they kept their vow, and then, at a few minutes before one in the morning, they fell asleep.

* * *

**6**

Sometime deep in the night, Wendy yelped, "Dipper! I hear my Dad!"

Dipper tried to get up, but he felt paralyzed. Somebody—Manly Dan!—grabbed his shoulder and shook him hard. "Dipper! Dipper!"

With the strength of panic, Dipper gripped the mattress as hard as he could, fighting not to be ripped out of the bed—

"Dipper, wake up!" Wendy said. "Dude, you're clutching my butt!"

"Huh?" Dipper first involuntarily squeezed the handful of firm and yet plaint flesh and then immediately let go. He struggled to sit up. "Aggh! I'm sorry, I was asleep, I didn't mean to—"

She laughed softly and kissed him. "Hey, I don't mind! Not the worst way to wake up! But I had the same dream of Dad and the boys comin' in on us," she said. "Guess that's a drawback to telepathy—we share some sweet dreams, but also the nightmares!" She turned to look at the clock. "It's five-nineteen, Dip. We'd best get up and drive over to the Shack and hope nobody missed you last night."

"They never check on me," Dipper said. "And if someone had noticed I wasn't there, they would've called me."

"Well, better get up and at 'em anyhow. I got a pair of socks and my brother's old cut-off shorts for you. We can come in looking like we finished a run."

"This is our day off from running," Dipper said.

"Yeah, you know that and I know that, but nobody else knows that!" Wendy said cheerfully.

They got dressed—Wendy wore her running shorts, tee shirt, headband, and running shoes, too—and Dipper wore an undershirt plus an old pair of jeans that Wendy's brother had outgrown when he was eight. They hung a little lose on Dipper.

As Grunkle Stan had nearly said, the Corduroys had freaky lumberjack jeans.

It was still dark out, with a drifting haze of ground mist—not bad, but atmospheric—and a sky patchy with clouds through which a waning crescent moon now and then peeked. Fast-moving shapes in the sky were probably eyebats out prowling for ripe-to-rotten fruit, their favorite food.

Wendy slowed for a mama quail and her eight half-grown chicks, slanting across the road like a sailboat followed by a line of dinghies. She eased the Dart up the Shack driveway and into her usual parking space. Then she and Dipper got out, quietly closing the car, and Dipper unlocked the family-side door to let them go inside to a sleeping house.

"The perfect crime, man," Wendy whispered to him.

They sat snuggling on the sofa in the parlor and, well, what did you expect? Hugged and kissed. "We have to tell everybody soon," Dipper murmured.

"Mm, well, Dad kinda-sorta knows," Wendy said. "But yeah, you ought to ask for my hand and all. It's old-fashioned, but Dad's an old-fashioned guy."

"And my dad's fine with it," Dipper said. "Mom—well, it's always hard to tell with Mom. I have a feeling she'll say, "Well, that's very nice, but you two children should wait until after college for such a big move."

"I'll talk to her if you want," Wendy said.

"No, I ought to do it. But maybe we can both be there. Hey, let's go outside. I want to see the sun come up."

By then it was close to six-thirty. They walked out to the bonfire glade and watched the eastern sky grow deeply pink, then fade as the sun rose above the eastern cliffs, painting the clouds in delicate tints of gold, pink, and blue.

"I am so gonna miss this," Dipper said. "There's nothing like a Gravity Falls sunrise. It's like—I don't know—like a curtain going up on a play that could be anything. Comedy, mystery, adventure, drama. Romance. You just never know."

With her arm around Dipper, Wendy said, "Back in high school, man, I couldn't wait to get out of this place for good. Had my heart set on moving to Portland—the big city!" She chuckled. "Didn't know back then what a small city Portland really is. But you know, Dip, seeing the Valley through your eyes—I guess I kinda got to love it, too. I wouldn't mind settling here after we're an old married couple out of college."

"I'd love that," Dipper said. "But I suppose it would depend on what we do for a living."

"Well, I'm gonna be in forestry, somehow," Wendy said. "Can't get much more into the Oregon forests than where we are, you know. And I suppose you could do your writing and ghost-busting and all wherever you wanted to. Unless you get, like, your own TV show or some deal."

"I suppose," Dipper said, "we'll have to wait and see how everything shakes out."

Not much to their surprise, after a while Jeff and Shmebulock popped up. "Hi, Wendy and Dipper," Jeff said.

"Shmebulock," said Shmebulock.

"I'm getting to that!" Jeff told him. "Uh, look—about the Gnome Queen—you know we don't have one any longer."

"Not gonna take you up on the offer," Wendy said. "I'm spoken for."

Jeff waved his hands. "No, no, not that—we're experimenting with not even having a monarchy. We're kind of a representative republic now, I guess? I think that's the term. It's tough, 'cause us Gnomes don't know how to, uh, ah—"

"Shmebulock."

"Yeah, exactly, how to think for ourselves. Everybody wants someone else giving orders. But anyway, now we're trying it—they chose me to be Prime Minister—"

"Congrats, man!" Wendy said.

"They got the best Gnome for the job," added Dipper with a smile. He'd always thought that during the Badger Queen's reign, Jeff had secretly made most of the decisions. Well, all of them, really.

Jeff shrugged. "I'm scared," he admitted. "But anyway, we're trying new things. Now, here's something—not many of us know how to read or write. Back in the old, old days there were Gnome scribes who kept the Gnome scrolls with the Gnome Chronicles—"

"Shmebulock!"

"OK, OK! He says I should stop saying 'Gnome,'" Jeff said. "And there are still some of us who can read the old runes, but the Chronicles stopped being written about the time we had to flee from our tunnels to the surface. Now Gnomes are thinking that we should educate our young—teach them the Gnomish way of writing, I mean, but also human letters—how to write and read English. And maybe educate one to be a scribe who can start up the Chronicles again. But we don't know how to do the teaching. OK, so my question is, could Gnome kids go to human schools?"

"I don't know," Wendy said slowly. "Parents pay taxes and stuff to support the schools and teachers and all—and I'm not sure that Gnome kids would be happy in human schools. Everyone would be way bigger than them, and Jeff—I'm sorry, but human kids can be real jerks."

"I know," Jeff said, drooping. "Some of them throw rocks at us."

"Wait a minute," Dipper said. "You know Gideon?"

"Yeah. He's got the softest skin!" Jeff said. Back when Mabel and Dipper were twelve, they'd once very nearly sold the Gnomes on kidnapping Gideon to be their Queen.

"Soft skin only 'cause he steals moisturizers from girls," Wendy explained.

Dipper ignored that and said, "Well, Gideon's girlfriend, Ulva, couldn't read and write, but they found a tutor to teach her. The woman's very good, and Ulva learned a lot from her. Now, it would cost some money—human money—"

"We're earning money from exterminating, waste removal, and performing," Jeff reminded Dipper. "And we've saved almost all of it."

"OK," Dipper said. "Could you get, I don't know, maybe three real smart Gnomes who already know something about reading and writing? The best ones?"

"That's no problem," Jeff said. "There's Perry and Clover and Beebalm, for example. They're all pretty good. There's maybe ten others to pick from, too."

"Then hire the tutor to teach them how to teach," Dipper said. "She's used to Gravity Falls, and I'm sure she's seen Gnomes. Ulva's a werewolf, and she didn't even hesitate before taking her on as a student."

"Teach . . . how to teach!" Jeff said, blinking. "Wow! What a great idea! And then we could—"

"Shmebulock!" said Shmebulock.

Jeff thought for a second. "Set up our own school? Yes, I suppose so. I mean, I was _gonna_ say kidnap the tutor, but maybe yours is an even better idea. Hey, thanks, you two! I'll go put it before the Council!" He and Shmebulock hurried off.

By then the sun was up, the birds were chirping, and the first woodpeckers were hammering a greeting to the dawn. Dipper and Wendy walked back to the Shack—the hug-walk that Dipper used to find embarrassing when older teens did it, but now it felt natural.

To his surprise, she put her hand on his left buttock for most of the way, comfortably squeezing. "That's kind of embarrassing," he told her, though not in a disapproving way.

"Meh, I like it," she said easily. "Besides, man, you grabbed _me_. Turn the other cheek, right?"

Dipper had to laugh at that. "That's right, Red!" he heard himself blurt.

Luckily, Wendy laughed, too.


	4. Chapter 4

**As Summer Sweetly Fades**

* * *

**(August 28, 2016)**

**6**

**From the Journals of Dipper Pines: ** _The swimming beach at the lake is always crowded on a Sunday, but I had a great time, anyway. To get away from the crowd, Wendy, Mabel, Teek, and I rented a small sailboat and despite Mabel's help, Wendy and I managed to get the hang of keeping it on a fairly straight course. We set off from the dock near the ranger's station around one-thirty, or as Mabel said, "Eleventy bells!" She doesn't quite have the knack of nautical time._

_We cruised smoothly out around Scuttlebutt Island, which is still a refuge for beavers, I noticed, and then glided way down the lake to a peaceful, quiet cove with absolutely nobody else around._

_Teek and I jumped out and beached the sailboat on a sandy shore and we all waded and swam. Of course we wore trunks and bathing suits—Wendy in a new red one-piece, me in dark blue trunks and an SPF-30 tee shirt (I burn easily). Mabel was wearing a modest two-piece, yellow with white polka dots, and Teek was in black trunks, no shirt. He should have worn one, though, because by late afternoon he was nearly as red as a boiled lobster._

_Wendy had brought along some aloe lotion, along with sunscreen (Teek wore the sunscreen, but it washed off, I guess), and Mabel took Teek under the shade deep of a tree and slathered the lotion on his sore back. Wendy and I spread out a blanket not far from them, also under shade, and we re-applied our sunscreen and then unpacked a picnic lunch._

_It didn't take Mabel too long to sniff it out—she's better than Tripper at that, I think—and she and Teek joined us for sandwiches: ham, roast beef, pimento cheese, egg salad, accompanied by pickles, chips, and sodas._

_Then we lay back, except for Teek, who kept himself propped up on his elbows, and played "Find Shapes in the Clouds." Mabel saw a road-kill frog, the Elephant Man's secret tattoo (we had to take her word), and the Starship Enterprise. Teek was a little more conservative: a row of mushrooms, a fish, a mouse._

_Wendy insisted that one looked like a pine tree, and Mabel named it "Dipper." And then, a sort of formless drifting wisp of cloud temporarily became a nearly perfect equilateral triangle. Nobody said it, but I'll bet we were all thinking "Bill."_

_At three-thirty, we sailed back to the dock—it was hard, because the wind was nearly against us, so we had to tack, which is to go at an angle to the wind for a way, then change and reverse the angle and go for a similar distance, and then switch back. If I describe this in a book, I'll have to be clearer. Let's see: We zig-zagged, that's it! Which made the distance back twice what it had been coming out. It took us almost exactly one hour._

_And at the end, nearing the dock, we furled the sail and broke out a couple of paddles and Wendy and I brought us into the dock, while Teek and Mabel sat in the stern and Mabel kept yelling, "Stroke! Stroke! Stroke, you lubbers!"_

_Panting with effort, I said, "You don't even know what a lubber is!"_

_Mabel jeered, "Boo, somebody who lubs. A member of the lubbocracy. A lubberly-looking guy. A guy who gets away with lubbage—hey!"_

_I'd splashed her with a paddled-up leap of water, and even Teek laughed. Mabel joined in—that's a good thing about her, she enjoys a joke even when it's on her. We got our deposit back on the boat and then Wendy drove us back to the Shack. Quiet, quiet Sunday afternoon. Tripper came prancing out—I had noticed before that when he wasn't running full-tilt, he really picked those paws up—and met us._

"_Come on," Mabel said to Teek. "I want to go spend some time with Waddles and Widdles. It breaks my heart to think that next weekend I'll have to leave them again."_

"_I wouldn't worry," Teek said. "I've seen how Soos treats them. For pigs, they live in luxury."_

_But he good-naturedly and carefully put on a soft shirt over his sunburn and went with her, with Tripper dancing along in company._

_Wendy and I went inside and changed our clothes. The Ramirezes were away somewhere, probably visiting friends. The whole town kind of loves Grunkle Stan, but at a distance. They welcomed Soos and Melody right into their homes. I don't know—Soos lacked Stan's weird come-on charisma, but the big guy seems so upbeat and so sincere about the wonders inside the Shack that people get real fond of him, and also protective of him, the way you might about a little kid._

_Far as kids go, I think Little Soos and Harmony are two of the luckiest tots in the world. Great parents. Perfect place to live._

* * *

That evening, Wendy and Dipper packed a tent and went off to a high ridge for overnight camping. Though early on Mrs. Pines had told Mabel to chaperone them, Mabel had decided that the two of them were old enough to chaperone each other, which probably made a kind of sense to Mabel.

Anyway, they were high up on the ridge, which Manly Dan had clear-cut, but he had replanted with seedlings, and the treeless slope gave them a spectacular view of the lake, a sapphire-blue spread nestled in hills, with all sorts of inlets, bays, and coves.

"Beautiful," Dipper said, sitting next to his girlfriend. He'd brought his acoustic guitar and slowly strummed random chords, not really trying for any kind of melody—just lazy musical sounds, C, D minor, G minor, B flat, F, D minor again. Wendy leaned against him and caught the progression and hummed along.

"I love this view," Dipper said.

Wendy sighed. "Yeah, and in five, six years, you won't even be able to see it, once these fir saplings take hold and get their growth spurt. Enjoy it while you can."

"The wind must have died down," Dipper said. "Water's so smooth now."

"Nice and breezy up here, though," Wendy said, tossing her head to let her hair wrap around behind instead of blowing across her face. She raised a hand and patted it back. "Think I ought to keep growing it out, Dip?"

Dipper couldn't find a resolution for the very loose chord sequence, but he didn't mind that. "Hm? Your hair? Whatever pleases you, Lumberjack Girl."

She put her head on his shoulder. "Yeah, but you like it long, like when you first met me."

"It's gorgeous that way," Dipper said, setting the guitar aside.

"OK, I'll let it grow. It ought to be about the right length by the time you come back next June."

"But I'll see you before then," Dipper said, with a touch of anxiety. "I mean, I know I can get Mom and Dad to let us come for Christmas again."

"And I'll remind Dad that he said I graduated from apocalypse training," Wendy said. "It's a date, man—what is it?"

Dipper had sat up straight and was shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun, staring anxiously down toward the lake. "Did you bring binoculars?"

Wendy shaded her eyes, too. "Nope, sorry. What do you see?"

"Look down at the lake there, just to the right of Scuttlebutt Island. It's moving. Can you see it?"

Dipper was watching a kind of shadow, a darker form that at first looked as if it was on the surface, but then he realized it was something just under the water. And then it rippled up, coming out into plain view.

"Whoa!" Wendy said. "That's a hella-big fish! Or is it some kind of turtle?"

A mile away and five hundred feet below them, a head on a sinuous, snaky neck rose above the surface for a moment, and then it plunged down, and the creature dived in a froth of white spray. It happened so quickly, and was so distant, that neither of them was quite certain of what they'd glimpsed.

But Dipper had a good idea. "The Gobblewonker!"

"No way! McGucket's I-want-attention-bot?" Wendy asked.

"Don't think so. He tore that down for parts. Wendy, I think what we saw was a living creature!"

"Want to go investigate?" Wendy asked.

Dipper rolled the thought around in his mind. Then he relaxed. "You know what? If there's a real Gobblewonker in the lake, it'll be there next summer. For now, just let it swim." He pulled Wendy close to him and they sat side by side, hip to hip. "We've got better things to do."

"Now," Wendy whispered in his ear, "you're talking."


	5. Chapter 5

**As Summer Sweetly Fades**

* * *

_Note: If this sounds familiar, it was earlier part of a story called "Blessings," written for Wendip week. However, my AU has now grown to encompass it, and this is where the chapter really belongs._

* * *

**(August 28-29, 2016)**

**7**

Despite the fact that she and Dipper were sleeping together—well, not technically, nothing going on physically, but they were in the same tent—Wendy had a restless night.

Because of a lot of things. Because on Wednesday Dipper and Mabel would turn seventeen.

Because she knew Dipper had an engagement ring for her.

Because Mr. and Mrs. Pines were coming up from Piedmont to help Dipper and Mabel move all their stuff back home—the kids' car wouldn't hold it all.

Because on Wednesday, "Mom, Dad," Dipper would tell them, "this is the girl I'm going to marry."

And—what?

Normally Wendy could stick her chin out and deal with anything, from a chimera to an animated mummy to a ghost. Normally she was fearless. But tonight—

_What if Mrs. Pines brings up the age thing?_

_No, I'll be twenty, he'll be eighteen, big deal! My dad was younger than my mom when they married! Dipper says his mom's six months older than his dad, too. She doesn't let anybody know that, though._

_And look at Ford and Stan and their younger wives! DECADES, man!_

_But—Dipper's always been his mom's favorite. What if she, like, hates the idea and disowns him? I couldn't come between him and his mom. So—what will I do then?_

She tossed and she turned so much that finally she couldn't stand it, got up, dressed, and quietly left the Corduroy cabin—or so it seemed to her, since once one is asleep, one does not realize one is dreaming.

Maybe a walk in the woods would calm her. She hiked straight back from the house, down a path through the woods that led to a shallow tinkling creek, crossed the creek on a tree trunk her dad had felled and then adzed off level to make a rough bridge, and started an upward climb that came out on the treeless crest of a hill.

She noticed how quiet it was—no insects, no owls, no wind. Bright moonlight making everything silvery and blue-shadowed.

Standing alone, with her arms crossed, Wendy stood there looking at the distant lights of town, bathed in the glow of a full moon, directly overhead—_Must be midnight_.

"No," Dipper said. "Later, I think. And the moon's really not out tonight. Dark of the moon, I'm pretty sure. I think you're dreaming."

"Dude!" She turned around. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

Dipper shrugged. "I think I'm dreaming, too."

They embraced, and it felt warm and real enough. She leaned her forehead against his. "I still got nearly two inches on you, Dip," she said fondly.

"You can wear flats to the wedding," he said. "I'll wear heels."

That made her laugh. "Is this real?"

"I . . . don't know. We'll talk about it tomorrow and see who remembers what."

"This is weird, man. I never had a dream this intense."

"Nice weird, though," he said. They kissed, and that felt real too.

They heard a cough and looked around. Wendy wasn't surprised—though probably she should have been—to see Archibald Corduroy standing there, just at the edge of the forest. The ghost had both eyes and looked younger than he had appeared to Dipper in the Northwest Mansion years before. And he had no axe embedded in his head, either, which improved his looks.

"Great-great granddad?" she asked.

He smiled and nodded. "Wendy. Someone wants to see you. I said I'd make the introduction. Hello, Dipper. Sorry about that turning you into wood thing."

"It's OK, man. You had issues."

"It's been a pleasure watching my little descendant here grow up to be a fine woman. And I know you're going to be a good man." He waved off anything they might have said in response and turned and beckoned. "Come on," he said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

From the forest at the foot of the hill walked—another Wendy.

"What?" Wendy asked. "Dude, who—"

"I'm your mother," the woman said softly as she stopped a few steps away. "Not the way I looked the last time you saw me, all wasted and sick. This is the way I looked when I was your age."

Her red hair was a lot shorter than Wendy's, but otherwise—they could have been twins. Like Wendy, Mrs. Corduroy wore a flannel shirt, jeans, and boots. "Wendy, Dipper," Archibald said, "this is Wendy's mother, Mrs. Amanda Blerble Corduroy."

Wendy said, "Oh!" She stepped forward. "I—can I touch you?"

Mrs. Corduroy smiled and spread her arms, and Wendy rushed into them. "I missed you so bad," Wendy said, her voice muffled.

Her mother stroked her long hair. "I've been watching you," she said softly. "I'm never very far away." She raised her hand and gestured, and Dipper came over shyly and grasped it. "Mason Pines," Mrs. Corduroy said. "Or shall I call you Dipper?"

"Whatever you want, ma'am," Dipper said.

Then Wendy's mother embraced them both at once and kissed first Wendy, then Dipper. "I want you to know you have my blessing," she whispered. "I want you to tell Dan that, too." Her voice became a little sad. "I can't appear to him, you see. He misses me too much, and it would break his heart. But tell him you saw me and that I still love him just as much as I ever did."

Wendy stepped away—not far—and stared at her. In a weeping and laughing voice, she said, "You know what? I never knew your last name was Blerble before you married dad! Not until, like, this summer! See, Dad wouldn't ever tell me my middle name, just that my initial was B."

"Oh, Dan can be so stubborn! My father was Henry Ward Blerble," she said. "My grandfather welcomed Dan into the family. My father, well—father thought Dan was too young and too poor for me and cut us off.

"And Dan was an awfully proud man. I saw my father often enough after Dan and I were married, and he knew I was happy, but he went his way and Dan went his. The two of them never spoke again, and even when we were poor, Dan wouldn't accept any help from him." She touched Wendy's cheek. "But don't be concerned about yourself. I have it on good authority that Mrs. Pines is going to be very happy with your announcement, darling. Stop worrying."

"Thank you, Mom," Wendy said.

"Dipper," Mrs. Corduroy said, "Don't you be afraid when you see your parents. Just tell your mother, while you hold Wendy's hand. Just say it: We're in love, and we're going to be married. She already knows Wendy's good for you." She winked. "We mothers know more about love than you young folks think we do."

Archibald led Dipper off a little way and let the womenfolk have their talk, as he said. Archibald spoke of the forest and how much and how little it had changed in the last century and a half. Dipper listened. And some time afterward—too soon—Wendy came and took his hand and they turned and the ghosts were gone.

"I guess we have to wake up now," Wendy said sadly.

"I guess so. I love you so much."

"I love you, Big Dipper. More than I can say."

And mumbling, "More than I can say," Wendy opened her eyes and realized she was in her sleeping bag, alone, not touching Dipper.

But she heard him ask softly, "Wendy?"

"Yeah," Wendy said.

Hesitantly, he said, "I just had this dream about us—it was a little strange."

"I was there," Wendy said, reaching out in the dark and finding his hand. "I know."

"Uh—on the hilltop? And we got your mom's blessing?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah. We did."

His voice sounded joyful: "But our telepathy wasn't working. So—it was real."

She gently corrected him: "It _is _real."

"Yeah," he said. "It is real."

And that was all they needed to say.


	6. Chapter 6

**As Summer Sweetly Fades**

* * *

**(August 30, 2016)**

**8**

"Mabel," Dipper asked on Tuesday morning, "Is it all right if I take the car?"

"Nope!" she chirped brightly. "But I'll drive you to Wendy's house!"

"Uh . . . I want to . . . ask Manly Dan something."

"Yup, I know you do, you impulsive swain, you! And after, you might need a driver to get you to the hospital." That morning Mabel had gone retro—a new version of her rainbow shooting-star sweater, and her hair band in a matching red—and they set out right after an early breakfast.

Wendy had called him first thing to tell him, "Dad and the boys pulled back in before sunup." They had been off on a logging job over a long weekend. "I gave my brothers fifty dollars each, and they're riding their bikes in to Greasy's for breakfast and then they're gonna spend the day at the arcade," she said. "So now's the time. Come over as soon as you can for your talk with Dad. If you can't make it in to work, call it a sick day—we'll cover for you somehow."

So the big, dreaded day had come.

It was only a little past seven o'clock, but Manly Dan was an early riser. "Git them trees before they're full awake," was his motto.

Gravity Falls was already stirring on that Tuesday morning—a morning that threatened rain later, with low gray clouds. Greasy's was open for breakfast, though Dipper didn't spot the Corduroy boys' bikes in the lot, and a couple of farm trucks loaded with produce and livestock trundled along the roads. As usual, Mabel drove Helen Wheels with more enthusiasm than concentration, and Dipper had to grip the edge of his seat from time to time.

"So you're really going to ask him," Mabel said. "Hey, have you and Wendy actually set the date yet?"

"Yeah, exactly one year from tomorrow," Dipper said.

The car swerved into the wrong lane as she snapped a glance at him. "No freakin' way!"

"Yeah—look out! Squirrel! Squirrel! That was close. Just a civil ceremony in the Shack, to make it legal. Grunkle Stan says he knows a couple of judges who owe him favors, and one of them will come to the Shack on our birthday and perform the civil service. Then later next year, we'll have the church affirmation in Piedmont with all the trimmings, and you'll be—"

"Maid of Honor! Yes!"

"Mabel! Mabel! The Corduroy driveway's right there!"

The tires screeched a little, but somehow or other Helen Wheels made the turn, did not roll over, and came to a stop.

Wendy stood waiting on the porch of the Corduroy house, leaning against a porch pillar with her hands in her jeans pockets. She took them out and hugged both Mabel and Dipper. "Happy last day of being sixteen, guys! And Dipper—good luck, man!"

Dipper swallowed hard. "Is, is your dad, uh, inside—?"

Wendy took out her car keys. "In the living room, dude. Mabes, want to race me back to the Shack?"

"No racing!" Dipper said.

"Just kidding, dude," Wendy said with a chuckle. "But seriously, the two of us better get over there. Soos is predicting another record day, and we got some set-up to help with."

Dipper stood on the porch until the fluorescent-green Carino and the forest-green Dodge Dart pulled out and drove away at a reasonable speed. Then he inhaled, gulped again, and knocked on the door.

Dan's growl nearly shook the wood: "Come on in, Pines, I know it's you."

Dipper opened the door and stepped in. Dan was sitting in, and obscuring, the armchair. Dipper said, "Uh, hi, sir."

Manly Dan glowered at him. "Well. Finally come around, did you?"

It came out in a clogged rush: "Yes—yes, sir. I love Wendy, and she's agreed to marry me. I—I—we—I—"

"Spit it out!"

Dipper was sweating and feeling like a twelve-year-old again. He clenched his hands. "I want to ask your blessing on our marriage!"

For many seconds, Manly Dan just glared at him. "You think you're MAN enough for my baby girl?"

Taking a deep breath, Dipper said, "If I'm not, I'll die trying to be."

Manly Dan cracked his huge knuckles. "Yeah, she warned me this was comin'. Even said she dreamed her mama approved. So I'm not gonna kill you. Here's the deal. Let's put you to the test, you competing against me. Six little tests, in fact. You fail 'em, you can't marry my daughter. You pass three, I'll give my OK."

Dipper clenched his jaw. "You're ten times stronger than I am, and I know the kind of test you'll put me to. Let's say if I pass _one_, you'll give us your blessing."

With an evil-looking grin, Dan nodded. "One. OK. I hope you know what you're up against."

"I think I'll find out."

Dan led him out to the back porch and asked, "Left handed or right handed?"

"Doesn't matter," Dipper said. "I'm ambidextrous."

"When you play baseball, how do you bat?"

"Right-handed," Dipper said. "I play the guitar that way, too."

"All right, then." Dan picked up two axes and led Dipper back into the woods to a place where two thirty-foot pines grew within a few yards of each other, on the top of a hill. The two trees were of identical girth. "First one to fell his tree wins," Manly Dan said. "Pick your tree. OK, you take that'n, I'll take this'n. Three, two, one, go!"

Their axes flew. Dipper had learned a little about tree chopping from Wendy—but Dan's muscles and expertise had deep roots. Chips flew from his tree like sawdust from a buzz saw. When he yelled, "Timber!" and his tree crashed to the floor of the forest, Dipper had cut maybe a tenth of the way into the trunk of his own tree.

It's one thing to know the theory of how to fell a tree. It's another to have been practicing that skill for nearly forty years.

"One down," Dan said with a fierce grin. "Here, I'll finish that one for ya. We don't have all day."

They moved to the next hill and a stand of tall, gray-barked birches, rising straight and true. "I tied a ribbon to the right places this morning," Dan said, pointing up. Two neighboring trees were marked by red ribbons at exactly the same height from the ground, maybe thirty feet up, just before the crown of branches spread. Two heavy leather climbing belts lay at their roots. Dan said, "Just so's it's fair, choose your tree again, and I'll take the other one. I'll count down from three, and we climb. First one to grab his ribbon's the winner."

Dipper had seen Wendy do this a dozen times—loop the belt around the trunk, walk yourself up, quickly relocate the belt, repeat. Tree climbing, easy-peasy.

He got up five feet, lost two while repositioning the belt. Up ten, lost two more. Up fifteen—

"Two down!" Dan yelled from just below the crown of his tree, flourishing his ribbon like a streamer. "You aint' doin' so well, sonny boy!"

"Let's do something I'm good at," Dipper suggested when Dan hopped down to earth again.

The red-bearded logger's bushy eyebrows rose. "Like what?"

"Math."

Dan grinned as he gathered up the belts and the two axes. "You're on. How many board feet of timber are in that first tree I cut? We'll go measure it and calculate."

Maybe if Dipper had ever heard of the term "board feet" he might have stood a chance. That was one thing that Wendy hadn't told him or even sent him telepathically. As it was—

"I got 2500," Dan said. "Halfway through, and you ain't come up a winner yet. You want to check my figures?"

"No, I'm sure you're right," Dipper said with a sigh.

In a gentler voice—for him—Dan said, "Three to go, son. You really want to go through with this?"

"Sir," Dipper said, "I'll see it out. But if I fail every single one and you don't give us your blessing—you know we're still going to be married."

Dan cracked his knuckles again. The sound was a bit like very distant gunfire. "That so?"

"It's so."

They drove to the lake, to the place where back in July the loggers had thrown their lumberjack jamboree. In the pen a waterlogged, well, log, still floated. "Log rollin'," Dan said. "Standard lumberjack game. I know you seen us do this. First one to fall in the water loses."

For the first time that morning, Dipper gave Dan a real run for his money. His track experience had given him speed and agility, and they were as important as sheer bulk and strength.

Forward, reverse, canny stop, leap, run faster, then reverse unexpectedly and back up slower—the log revolved in the water as the two struggled to stay balanced on it.

And then something went wrong. Dipper's foot slipped on the slimy log. Dan reached down and plucked him out of the water.

"Down to two, boy."

At least back at the Corduroy house, Dan lent Dipper some of his son Junior's old clothes, though Dipper did not feel at home, really, in red flannel shirt and baggy overalls. Next was—the hatchet toss.

Dan had a heavy plywood target set up out back, a red circle painted on a white background. "My baby girl," he said, "can get five in the circle every time. Let me show you how."

It was almost like a juggling trick. Dan held four hatchets in his left hand, one in his right, and onetwothreefourfive he threw, shifted another, threw again, and all five were in the air practically simultaneously. With solid-sounding _chunks!_ they embedded themselves in the splintered wood and stuck there quivering inside the red ring of the painted circle.

Dipper . . . didn't have the knack. The very first one hit handle-first and bounced off. In the end, he managed to get one hatchet to stick, and it was outside the circle.

"I'm startin' to have my doubts about you," Dan said. "One chance left."

"What's next?" Dipper asked grimly.

Dan grinned at him. "Arm wrasslin'."

* * *

Then later that afternoon, when the last tourist had left and the Shack started to settle down, Dipper—who had after all his hard morning worked a half-day—finished telling Wendy and Mabel about the tests.

"So . . ." Wendy asked suspiciously, "Dad _let_ you win at arm wrestling?"

"Not exactly," Dipper replied. "We sat down at the table, got into position—he had to sit way back because his arms are so much longer—and when he said, 'I'll count down from three, and then we go,' I interrupted his count. I said, 'Sir, I just want you to know why I think I'm man enough for your daughter. When I was just thirteen years old, I slept with Wendy.'"

Wendy and Mabel both gasped. Mabel said, "And he left you your head?"

Dipper shrugged. "He was so shocked that I think he was paralyzed for a second. That was when I slammed his fist down on the table and then, real quickly, explained that Wendy and I just fell asleep watching TV on the floor in the Shack that New Year's, and nothing happened."

"Wow—wait, you're not a ghost, are you?" Mabel asked, poking him. "He didn't kill you?"

Dipper squirmed. Mabel poked hard. "No. He threw back his head and laughed. He clapped me on the shoulder so hard I think I may have a mild sprain. He said, 'That's what I was waiting for, boy! I knew you had the Pines smarts, just wanted to see you use 'em. Listen, I want me some good strong, smart grandkids from you and my daughter. You two get to work on that soon's it's legal.'"

Wendy blushed. "That's my dad!"

"But," Dipper said, "he also told me he was just funning with me all along. He was going to give us his blessing anyway."

"Well-p," Mabel said, "that's one down. Now for Mom and Dad."

"Actually . . . two down," Wendy corrected.

"Say what?" Mabel asked.

Dipper chuckled. "We'll tell you," he said, "when you're older."


	7. Chapter 7

**As Summer Sweetly Fades**

* * *

**(August 31, 2016)**

**9**

**From the Journals of Dipper Pines: ** _When I was just a little kid, I used to go to bed the night before our birthday and lie awake thinking about the magic of it all. I'd think, I'm going to sleep nine years old, but tomorrow I'll wake up ten years old._

_It always seemed so weird to me. Like I would get up and be this changed person. Like everything would be different. Sometimes I'd even get scared that all my memories would go away in the night, and I would have to wake up to re-learn who I was and who these people I lived with were and discover how to be a ten-year-old._

_Yeah, and then I hit thirteen and realized that nothing much . . . really changes. Not down deep, where life lives. And right now I'm in bed up in the attic, listening to the rain on the roof and thinking I'm going to sleep sixteen and I'm going to wake up seventeen._

_And you know what? It's still a little bit scary._

_Sometime soon I want to look back over my journal for the summer and kind of figure out if there's a pattern to it all. I want there to be. I don't want life to be just random stuff that happens. It might be that, and if it is, well, it is. But it's hard._

_Dad and especially Mom like having a shape to their lives, a routine. Dad's more about a connection to the past, I guess. I remember back when we turned thirteen, Dad wanted Mabel to have a bat mitzvah and me to have a bar mitzvah. He's Reform, and it's not as big a deal as, I guess, it must have been back when our Grunkles were that age. Anyway, to please him, we did the preparation and then went to Synagogue and I read from the Torah, though I'd really memorized the text, and Mabel recited a Psalm, and we did all that religious bit, and then afterward, there was the party._

_Oh, yeah, the party. When we got home and it came up, Dad sort of asked me, "Would you mind doing this for me? It's a tradition."_

_But Mabel—Mabel said, "Brobro! You can't turn down an opportunity for gifts! Where's your head? Where-is-your-HEAD?"_

_Anyway, it was a little embarrassing, that "Today I am a man" speech and all. Rabbi Lowenstein, who looks like a professional tennis player, was good-natured about it and helped us through. But I have to admit, standing there, I felt like I was lying to God and everybody._

_I mean, "Today I am a man?" Really?_

_When just the previous summer I'd sat on a log with a girl I absolutely adored and she let me down easy—"I'm too old for you. I mean, you know that, right?"_

_But—but—but—Wendy, I'm a man!_

_Yeah, no, not really. Only a man in theory. I now realize what a long way I had to go. Still do. I hope I'm getting closer._

_I think Soos is going to make a great big sacrifice for Mabel and me tomorrow. It's mid-week in the busiest week in the Shack's year, but—he's giving me, Mabel, and Wendy the day off. Because it's our birthday._

_Mom and Dad will be pulling in sometime tomorrow afternoon. And in the evening, we'll have our seventeenth birthday party._

_And some time before that or after that, Wendy and I are going to go up to them hand in hand and say—_

_Oh, man._

_I'm going to wake up tomorrow and be seventeen and everything's going to be so different._

* * *

At the breakfast table the next morning, Mabel said, "But I _want_ to record it!"

"It's private," Dipper told her for the sixth time. "Look, when Teek gives you your ring, you don't want a—an audience around!"

"Says who?" Mabel demanded. She held up her right hand, adorned with the promise ring she had already received. "I want it to be televised! And live-streamed! And I want adoring fans everywhere sending us engagement presents! Yes!"

"Wendy and I are more publicity shy than you are," Dipper said. "Look, you're my sister, and I love you, and I'd probably even forgive you, but please—please don't ruin this for us."

Mabel poked at the last bits of cereal floating in her bowl. "If you're gonna be such a grump about it, OK," she muttered. "Where are you going to do it?"

"Come on, Mabel," Dipper said, "I haven't planned out a special place!"

She picked up the bowl and slurped the rest of the milk and the dregs of the Fruity Tooties, the colorful cereal that was shaped like little whistles. Though that's not how they got their name. Then she put it down and wiped her mouth. "Ahh. Dipper, I'm surprised at you! You plan everything! Look, when a guy asks the big question, it should be somewhere romantic, like on the top of the Louvre Tower, or while swimming over Niagara Falls—"

"We might go down to the Crawl Space," he said. "I hear it's in operation again."

"Boo!" Mabel crossed her arms and frowned. "You won't take this seriously! Really, find some place romantic."

Dipper got up and poured himself just a half cup of coffee. "The Louvre doesn't even have a tower."

Mabel thought for a minute. "Go up on the water tower!"

Leaning against the counter, Dipper shook his head. "It's raining!"

Mabel gave him a sour glance. "So you two think you'll melt? What's the name of that tower in Paris, anyhow?"

Dipper sipped his coffee and said, "The Eiffel Tower."

She frowned. "Are you sure that isn't in London?"

"That's the Tower of London." He shook his head. When they'd been in grade school, the teacher in the fall sometimes complained that the students always forgot everything over summer break. Mabel wasn't stupid, but—Dipper suspected—sometimes she just found the act of recalling something too much effort.

Now she looked thoughtful. "Tower of London, huh? I guess that makes sense. How bad's it raining?"

"Not hard, but steady." Dipper moved over and looked out the window. The heavy, slow overcast made the day dull and leaden. The yard looked squishy with puddles, and a slow shower drifted down in silvery curtains, dripping from the eaves and making the pines droop a little with the weight of water. "Like one of those November rains back home. That's because Piedmont has a Mediterranean climate."

That brightened Mabel up a little. "I like pizza."

"That just means we have a rainy season and a dry season. Kind of like that here, too, except up here there's more rain in the summers, thunderstorms and all." Out in the yard, Waddles and Widdles were wallowing in shallow puddles, looking happy in a piggy way.

Tripper whined, and Mabel jumped up. "Whoa, I forgot the little fella needs his après-breakfast bathroom break! Here you go!" She opened the door for him. He stood for a moment looking disconsolately out at the wet, dreary day, and then glanced at her accusingly before going out, as though Mabel had neglected to turn off the rain. Through the window, Dipper saw him hurry over to a tree, give it a respectful hind-leg salute, then turn, scratch three times in the grass, and gallop back past the wriggling pigs.

Mabel had gone down the hall to the bathroom and came back with a towel, which she spread on the floor. "Wipe your feet, young man!" she said.

Amazingly, Tripper did, front feet first, the rear, carefully and thoroughly. He beamed when Mabel praised him: "You're so smart!"

"Yes, he is," Dipper said. He supposed Dad and Mom wouldn't have any problem with him. He was so short-haired that he shed minimally, and he was remarkably well-behaved. Of course, he could also read simple words and, with a set of alphabet blocks, could sort of write, except he could never quite seem to get the vowels in the right place. He might tell them he was HNUGRY, or anxiously just bring the P block to them and drop it, while squirming.

That was enough to freak a person out, and it was going to take Mom and Dad some time to get used to.

Dipper heard a car and ran to the front door. Wendy got out of her Dart and crossed the lawn. The rain wasn't enough to make her wear a raincoat, but she did press her ushanka down with one hand.

"Happy birthday, Dip! Big day!" she said, grinning, wiping her feet on the doormat. "How are you feeling?"

"Kind of like I did right before we all got shot into the Fearamid," Dipper admitted. He reached for her hand. "I've got something for you. Mabel says we should go somewhere romantic."

"Roof time!" Wendy said.

He laughed. "Well—the roof will be too slippery. And uncomfortable," Dipper told her. "Let's just get as close to it as we can."

They went upstairs to the attic and Dipper had Wendy sit on the window seat in the stained-glass window bay. "I hope I'm going to do this right," he said.

He knelt in front of her and brought out the little jewelry box. "Wendy, I love you. You're the most amazing person I know. You're like music, you're like fireworks, you're like hot peppermint tea on a freezing day. Please be part of my life forever, and let me be part of yours, and we'll face everything the world throws at us together, no matter what. When I'm in your arms, I'm where I always want to be." He opened the box and heard Wendy gasp. She had not seen the ring before, with its dazzling Rhidicollite stone—more brilliant than the finest ordinary diamond—and the two framing birthstones, hers and Dipper's. "Wendy Corduroy," he said formally, "will you marry me?"

"Yes, I will, Dipper Pines," she said, smiling, but with tears shimmering in her green eyes. "Yes, I will!" She held out her hand and he slipped the ring on the fourth finger. Then she pulled him up to sit on the window seat, and they exchanged a long, sweet kiss. Then they sat with their foreheads touching, both smiling, with him holding both her hands in hers.

Across the attic, from behind the door of the closet where Soos stored things like, oh, the electron carpet, for example, Mabel crouched. She had cracked the door open just enough.

She switched off the digital movie camera and whispered, rather than shouted, "And that's a wrap."

* * *

**10**

At mid-morning,the three of them had coffee with Pacifica and her boyfriend Daniel Raventree—who looked a little bit exotic, but then he was a reformed vampire, so he had a right—and with Tambry and Robbie, who were back in Gravity Falls before taking off to college for the fall term.

Pacifica and Tambry oohed over the ring, and Tambry had to take a few dozen photos of it and then of the happy couple, and then of the happy couple plus Mabel, and then she had to get a passerby to take a few of the whole group.

"Don't post these until tomorrow, though, OK?" Dipper asked.

"Too late!" Tambry said cheerfully. Oh, well, Wanda Pines was in a car somewhere on the way up to Oregon, and she didn't follow social media anyway.

Pacifica asked, "Where are you registered?"

Wendy looked at Dipper, and he could tell she was about to bust out laughing. But she swallowed her amusement and said, "L.L. Bean."

Pacifica blinked, but then got it and laughed. "I guess I jumped the gun!"

"Yeah, no engagement party now. Maybe early next summer."

"But the wedding is a year from today, in the Shack! Clear your calendars!" Mabel said. "And I'll be handling the bridal shower. I'm thinking mid-July! I'm maid of honor, too, and if anybody has any objection, shut your yaps. And don't forget, birthday bash in the Shack tonight, eight sharp!"

After that, they visited the McGuckets, who gave the couple their blessing. "You want, I can build a heap of ushermabots," McGucket offered. "They'll show everybody to their seats, and they'll also have concealed plasma weapons in case th' bad guys show up!"

"Which bad guys?" Mabel asked.

"Any of 'em!" McGucket replied, his eyes narrowing and darting from side to side suspiciously.

They'd asked Ford to delay his daily trip to the Institute—the professors there were gearing up for classes beginning the next week, and already students were moving into the dorms—until later in the day. They visited Ford and Lorena, showed off the ring, and left the older couple hugging each other and smiling. Young love tends to re-ignite gentle sparks in older lovers.

Grunkle Stan and Sheila were working in the Shack, but Wendy and Dipper caught them at a very rare slack time. The rain might have kept some of the crowds away, but the days would be a madhouse until Labor Day. They, Soos, Melody, and Abuelita hugged Dipper and Wendy—and Mabel, for some reason—and then Dipper said, "Wendy and I want to drive over to the lumber mill and show her dad the ring."

And so the long day passed.

* * *

About a minute after six—quitting time—Mrs. Pines's RAV4 pulled into the parking lot. The rain had slacked and finally ended, though the afternoon was still cloudy, and Mabel and Soos ran out to escort them in. Alex and Wanda planned to spend the night in Stan's house, but, as Soos said, "You got to have dinner with us. I won't take no for an answer! Uh, is the answer, like, yes, dawgs?"

Soos and Melody let the Pineses ooh and ahh over Harmony and Little Soos, who proudly helped Mabel demonstrate how smart Tripper was. Then Mabel said, "We have to have a serious talk. As you see, Dip and I have a dog now."

Her parents looked at each other. "He's your dog?" her dad asked. "Well—the back yard is fenced in."

"Will you take care of it?" Wanda asked.

"He practically takes care of himself!" Mabel said. "Look at this. Tripper, look. This is Dad. Dad. See? And this is Mom. She's Mom. OK, now I want you to go to Dad and ask nicely if you can live with us. Go."

Tripper walked over to Dad, sat at his feet, looked up at him with big sad eyes, and softly raised his right front paw to touch Dad's shin. He whimpered once. Dad laughed and reached down to shake the puppy's paw.

"Good boy!" Mabel said. "Now tell Mom how happy you'll be to live with us and promise you'll never make any trouble!"

Tripper crossed to Mom, lay on his tummy, looked up at her, and smiled. Wanda had to laugh at the biggest puppy smile anyone had ever seen. And very softly, he barked one hopeful yip. Then he tilted his head, as if asking, "OK?"

"I guess we have a dog," Mrs. Pines said.

"Great!" Mabel threw herself into an armchair and patted her lap, and Tripper jumped up to sprawl there. "Now the hard part's over. One other little piece of news."

That was their cue. Dipper took Wendy's hand and she sent him encouraging thoughts.

_-Thanks, Magic Girl. Here goes._

He stood in front of his parents. "Mom, Dad—I see in your faces you already know. But let me say it. During the time Mabel and I have spent here, we've made lots of friends. And Wendy and I fell in love. Today I asked her to marry me, and she's said yes. Not right away, not for another year. We'll have a long engagement. But—well, we're like you two. We want to be together forever, and we make each other better. Please give us your blessing."

Mrs. Pines sighed, stood up, and said, "I sort of expected this. Alex?"

"Oh, they had my vote a long time ago!" Dad said, laughing as he got to his feet.

"Very well." Mrs. Pines shook her head, her expression a little sad. "Bless you both, then. Wendy, I'm glad he found someone who's"—she paused for a moment—"who's settled enough to give him comfort and reassurance whenever he needs it. Dipper, Wendy's a lovely girl. Of course you have our blessing." And she hugged them.

Dipper knew that his mom had just barely kept herself from describing Wendy as someone _mature_ enough for her son. Thanks for catching that, Mom.

* * *

The birthday party rocked on and people were still dancing at a quarter to midnight, when Dipper and Wendy slipped away. For roof time.

The shingles were still damp, but no longer slippery. They sat on the little flat roof over the bay window, legs dangling. She reached over to remove his pine-tree hat and replaced it with her trapper's hat. "Couple days early, but let's formalize it," she said. "There, fiancé. See you next summer."

He adjusted the hat. "See you before then, fiancée." he said. "At Christmas, anyway! I couldn't stand to wait until next summer to be with you again."

"Deal. It wasn't as bad as we were afraid it would be, was it, Dip?"

"How do you feel?" he asked Wendy.

"Mm, little bit scared, man," she said. "It's a big step and a long future. But I'm happy, too. You?"

"Real happy," Dipper agreed. He took a deep breath. "Only, you know—"

"Yeah?"

"Everything's different now."

* * *

The End


End file.
